


Waiting For You

by The_Exile



Series: The S Ending [3]
Category: Valkyrie Profile: Lenneth
Genre: C Ending, Doom, Gen, Possession, Ragnarok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Exile/pseuds/The_Exile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arngrim knows that Hrist is coming to take him back, probably to fight against Lenneth. He doesn't expect the other visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting For You

"I knew you'd come," Arngrim grunted, "Been waiting for you."

The heavily-built, scarred mercenary sat with his back against a charred tree stump, cleaning a broadsword that rested across his legs. The fire-ravaged, blasted clearing had been the site of the incident. True to his word, he had been waiting there all night. He still wore his armour and his eyes roamed across the heavens, watching for the first sign of trouble. At first, the other former Einherjar had took turns watching with him, then they gradually disappeared, one by one, to attend to their own business, dismissing him as a paranoid fool whose brain had clearly broken under the pressure. Not that their plans were any more sane: several of them had been reduced to asking Lezard and Mystina for help. The morally dubious sorceress had offered to give him lessons on how to exist in the long term in an intangible form outside the structure of an Einherjar's bond to a Valkyrie. She had flirted with him as she asked, of course. He refused both offers. He had experience of his own at surviving the aftermath of a bond with a Valkyrie turned bad. After three failures, he certainly needed the practice at refusing offers made to him by shifty-looking women, no matter how tempting they might sound.

As for whether he was paranoid or merely knew more than the others about what was likely to happen next, it was about to be made apparent.

"Arngrim, your assistance is required immediately," said Hrist in her cold, commanding voice. She did not respond to his comment. The Black Valkyrie had no sense of humour, could not be baited with insults or swayed by any pleas to her conscience. If Hrist was a model of the perfect servant of Odin, it was no wonder that Freya had called Lenneth a 'faulty machine' on that fateful day. Little separated Hrist from a machine, only the fact that Hrist had almost certainly been a mortal, just the same as Lenneth, before her soul had been repurposed by the All-Father. If she showed any signs of remembering her past life, it was in private.

"I wonder what this could possibly be about," said Argrim, otherwise not registering her presence. He did not stand up, stop what he was doing or even look at her except for a casual glance.

Hrist did not understand sarcasm either, "You are to assist me in tracking down the faulty Valkyrie Lenneth, free her from Surt's possession and, if possible, eliminate the Lord of the Fire Giants himself. If it is necessary to destroy Lenneth, you will carry out the order to do so."

"How'd you get a new body? I heard Lenneth broke off all contact with you in a way that you couldn't just rip her soul out of her body."

"This is an emergency replacement body." 

"Is it a rush job? Does it weaker than the old one? Can you survive without the other two Valkyries?" Arngrim pressed, noting a hint of annoyance in her otherwise stone-cold, eerily beautiful features, "I heard Lenneth was the stronger of you. Can you beat her?"

"Lenneth no longer has her Einherjar. Their control has officially been passed over to me. I am here to reclaim what has been stolen from Odin," she said, "Once the process is complete, I will have a significant advantage of numbers."

"Won't work. She has other allies now. You don't know for certain they won't still outnumber you," said Arngrim, stretching his arms and yawning, "And I do mean 'you'. None of us will follow you. We were loyal to Lenneth, not to Odin."

"You have no say in the matter. The moment you entered a contract with Lenneth Valkyrie, your souls belonged to her, and as she is but an ambassador to Odin, your souls belong to the All-Father by proxy."

"How d'you know I'm not still contracted to Lenneth? A mercenary doesn't go back on their contract, you know," he said, "And by your logic, that'd make me a servant of Surt. You sure you want to travel with someone like that?"

"My divine senses tell me that your bond with Lenneth was automatically cut off when she defected, and that you are not possessed by Surt..."

"Yeah, because that worked so well for Freya!"

"... Be that as it may, you are not. There is no point in further discussion. You will not be able to resist a divine command. Now, join me in battle, my fellow Einherjar!"

The last command was not merely words, but was accompanied by a pulse of her strength of will. It felt like the force of a tidal wave was crashing down on top of him and sweeping him away, its dark, icy coldness draining all his strength, too fierce to avoid drowning in the endlessly deep blackness. Surrender would be so easy, the voice that whispered in his mind was telling him, it would mean an end to pain, to confusion and anxiety. He would have all the strength Hrist could give him, a perfect machine's weapon, and he would have nothing to think about except the beautiful peace that came with knowing his exact place in the Universe. He could drift in the beautiful, soothing darkness forever.

He fought to maintain control, as he would fight to stay on the surface if he were drowning. The pressure was immense but he had endured great hardship all his life, survived battle after battle. He had also fought this particular battle of wills twice before. Although he hadn't won either time, he at least had experience he could bring to the next fight.

He had something more. He didn't know what it was, who was providing it, but there was something inside the arena of his mental duel, another presence fighting alongside him. It was unpleasant, almost as dark as the shadows, with rising, shifting shapes of chaos, but it was on his side, or at least shared a common enemy. Lezard or Mystina come to lend him a hand, maybe. It could even have been Lenneth or Surt taking advantage of Hrist's distraction to mount their own ambush. It didn't matter. He wouldn't turn down help. He had been dreading this day, underneath all his mercenary bravado; he had always known this would be a desperate battle.

"I won't be taken again!" he grunted, gripping the hilt of the broadsword his mental image of himself carried into the arena. Trying to fight something like this was as stupid as trying to stop a hurricane or an avalanche with a sword but its presence made him feel better, more like himself. The omnipresence that was Hrist's will did not deign him with a reply, it merely kept up its soft, cool susurrus. 

"Damn you all to Hel. Hope he wins. Hope you all burn..." he continued through gritted teeth. His sword felt heavy, even though he had trained to the point where he could hold it before him all day. It was difficult to keep up a physical form now. He knew if he lost his mental image of himself, his sense of identity would start to deteriorate too. Damn it, people weren't supposed to live outside their bodies like this! He should have taken Mystina's offer of the lessons, maybe the other offer, too, while he still had the chance...

Without warning, Hrist simply broke off the connection. As though suddenly dropped from a height, the termination hit him like a blow, leaving him doubling over in agony and nausea. Through bleary eyes, he looked up to see what had happened to force her to focus on something other than her intended victim. Someone else had joined them in the clearing. Occupied with keeping his free will from a relentless assault on his mind, he had no hope of noticing the newcomer. Someone could have stabbed him, provided they had a weapon capable of cutting through the ethereal. 

This particular man probably did.

"Brahms," said Hrist in the same cold voice. If she was surprised, she didn't show it. She probably wasn't. Now that Arngrim came to think of it, this battle seemed inevitable to him, too.

"Come to my aid, Einherjar," she ordered him. He blinked at her, groaned in response, then closed his eyes. 

"The man can barely stand, never mind fight me. Do you not wish to talk, first, or must we rush straight to the uncivilised options?" said the Undead King.

"No doubt you had something to do with the current situation," she replied.

"Me? Certainly not. My people are, regrettably, rather flammable. No, my business is with you alone. Come, torment this poor fellow no longer. He cannot even decide if he is mortal or not," replied Brahms, "The matters I wish to discuss with you require privacy."

Arngrim heard them walk away. Once he couldn't hear their footsteps and wingbeats any more, he collapsed and allowed true unconsciousness to take him.


End file.
